Roads
by screennameless
Summary: "There are no wrong roads to anywhere." A series of requested SC one-shots.
1. For Mattie

_For **Mattie**, who requested "a modern day fugen fanfic with mugen being a badass and fuu being all amazing as she is." Sorry in advance: Mugen didn't end up being much of a badass. But Fuu turned out pretty damn amazing, so... it works out?_

_Warning: Lots and lots of swearing._

* * *

**Wisdom**

He's more than a little offended when someone suggests the remedial reading program. He's twenty-fucking-two - way too old a dog to be taught new tricks. But the manager of the construction company is willing to give him a full-time position if he learns to read, and he's well and truly fucked in this town if he doesn't manage to land a steady job, so he agrees to sit down for a few company-funded spelling lessons. He reassures himself that anything nerds can do must be easy. The hard lessons he learned as a kid _had_ to be way tougher than the shit they taught in school.

So there he is, sitting at the darkest table in the farthest corner of the diner, squinting at a grade-school grammar primer he's hidden inside a shitty dumpster Playboy, when the waitress walks up.

"You know, I think you're the first guy I've actually _seen_ read it for the articles."

He jumps and slams the magazine shut on the table, his hands spreading out to cover as much of the evidence as possible. She's young-looking and decently pretty, with big round eyes and a messy ponytail of straight brown hair, which only makes him all the more embarrassed. She raises her eyebrows at him as she sets his beer on the table.

"What?!" he demands, acutely aware of how red his face must be and defiantly pissed off as a result.

She looks at him like he has three heads, and the expression makes her very unattractive. He notices now that she's flat as a board, and that gratifies him a little bit. "Your magazine?" she says, the words acidic on her tongue. "You were mouthing the words as you read."

His gratification immediately fizzles out. His face burns. Goddammit, he is so fucking stupid. Fuck this town. Fuck construction. He's too fucking dumb for this. He moves to push past her.

But her wary expression has morphed into an "o" of understanding. "I get it now." She wrinkles her nose at him. "You're one of those guys who doesn't _want_ people to know he reads the articles, aren't you?"

He stops, stares at her. She has no idea. It takes a moment for him to form words. "Yeah," he says. His voice is raspy. He clears his throat and reaches for his beer, averting his eyes. "Yeah, that's it."

She rolls her eyes, her tray dropping to her hip. "I don't see what the big deal is. It's still Playboy. Not like you've been caught reading Oprah or something."

He chokes on the liquor, spitting all over himself and the table. Goddammit, his face is burning again. He's sputtering like a fucking idiot, and the waitress is covering her mouth in shock and asking if he's okay (_of course he's not fucking okay_, he wants to tell her, _does he look like he's fucking okay?_). She grabs a wad of paper towels from God knows where (he realizes belatedly that they are in fact napkins, from the napkin dispenser on his table), wiping his face and apologizing, apologizing, apologizing; and he's so flustered by the attention that it doesn't even occur to him to tell her _not to touch his fucking stuff you goddamn bitch_ until she's already got the sodden magazine half-off the soaking table, and by then the grammar booklet has already fallen onto the floor, drops of beer plip plip plipping onto the cover.

She stares at the primer, both hands holding the Playboy as if it might fall apart if she let go.

His face is on fire. If he was red before, he must be fucking neon now. His hands trembling with indignation, he swipes the booklet off the floor and stuffs it into his jacket. He snatches the Playboy before she can react and stuffs that in, too. He's halfway across the diner and out the door before she catches his sleeve.

"Wait!" she pleads, dragging on his jacket. "Wait. I'm sorry. Please."

"Let go, you stupid bitch!" he snarls, and she does, and that shouldn't make him feel guilty.

"I'm sorry," she repeats feebly. He doesn't dignify her with an answer as he storms off into the night.

The next day he wakes up to five a.m. birdsong and her worried, childish face hovering over him. He yelps and scrambles backward, his sleeping bag swishing against the park bench. "What the _fuck_?!" he sputters, clutching the nylon up to his chin like it could protect him from bullets.

She seems startled by his reaction, as if he should respond calmly to total strangers watching him while he sleeps. But no - his anger seems to confirm something for her, and it is that something which surprises her. She uncovers her mouth. "Is this where you live?" she whispers, like it's some kind of horrible secret.

His face is burning _again_ - she has a knack, he realizes, for making him feel ashamed of the simple facts of his existence. "Did you _follow_ me?" he hisses, turning the embarrassment around on her.

Her cheeks pink a little. "Well, excuse me for wanting to make sure you were okay!" she snaps, folding her arms across her nonexistent chest. She huffs out a breath. "Geez, can't even do a good deed without pissing someone off anymore."

_That_ sends him over the edge. "_Good deed?!_" he demands, lurching forward a little. "You call making me feel like a _fucking_ _idiot_ a _good deed?!_"

She shrinks back a little, and he suddenly processes that her arms are, in fact, folded around a book. He hesitates, and she takes the opportunity to gather herself and shove it into his hands defiantly.

Blinking, he stares at the cover. He has no idea what it says, the picture - a surprised-looking kid and a pissed-off dog with a watch wedged into its side - doesn't give him any clues, and for once his own worthlessness doesn't inspire any anger in him. He holds it back out for her.

"You didn't even look at it!" she protests, tossing her arms in frustration.

"I don't want it," he mumbles.

"How can you know if you don't at least read the title?!" she retorts.

"I can't read the fucking title!" he roars back, but he deflates as soon as the confession leaves him. "Bitch," he adds sullenly.

He can't bear to look at her, because his face is burning and he just _knows_ she's looking at him sadly, and he can't stand to be pitied. If he glares into the distance long enough, at some point she'll get uncomfortable and leave, and then he can skip town as soon as he finds an unlocked car door.

But to his surprise, she sits next to him on the bench. "It's _The Phantom Tollbooth_."

He blinks at her, but she's staring off at the barest tendrils of light reaching up from the horizon. "What?" he says.

"The book. It's called _The Phantom Tollbooth_." She doesn't look at him, but she sort of tips her head in his direction. "My mom used to read it to me when I was little." She pulls her legs up onto the bench and tucks her nose between her knees. "I read it a lot after she died, and... it gets better when you're older, basically. It's a children's book, but it's written so you can appreciate it more when you go back to it later." She rests her temple on her knees and smiles at him softly. "I figured it'd be a good book to learn from as an adult."

He looks at her, her face just barely lit by the hint of the sunrise. He looks at the book with its cracked spine and worn blue cover. He looks at the tip of the sun cresting the horizon. Then, as reverently as he can manage, he lays the book on the bench and slides it across the space between them so that it butts up against her hip.

She lets her legs drop and slides it back, turning her body towards him. "I want you to have it."

"I'm not taking your mom's special fucking book." He pushes it back forcefully, banging it against her thigh.

She studies him for a moment. "Okay." She picks up the book and puts it in her bag. "Then I want you to come over to my house for breakfast."

"What?" She's looking at him expectantly. "No." He shakes his head to emphasize it. "No. Why?"

She wrinkles her nose at him. "So you can start reading it while I make you waffles. Duh."

Her nonchalance pisses him off. "Look, I am not your fucking charity case, okay?" He paws at his sleeping bag, trying to find the zipper. "I'm not your good deed of the day or whatever. I don't need any help." He finds the zipper. It hisses open, and he's suddenly aware of how threadbare his clothes are underneath the nylon. He glares at her to compensate. "So are you gonna let it go, or what?"

Pursing her lips, she sighs and digs through her bag. "Tell you what." She produces a coin from the bottom of her purse and holds it up for him to see. "Heads, you can leave, and I forget all about this whole thing." She turns it over. "Tails, you come stay with me until you learn to read." She turns it back once more. "Deal?"

He frowns at her for a moment. Then he snatches the coin out of her hand and flings it into the air.

**END**

* * *

_Basically, unless you ask specifically for Jin, I'm probably not going to include him in things._

_But you totally CAN ask specifically for Jin, because **I am taking one-shot requests!** This is my first completed request (SweetlySpicey and Luv4Uncas: The _Rough Men/Seaglass_ perspective flip is on its way; meru-chan: I'm considering possibilities for what could follow _Seaglass_)._

_Anyway, I was exposed to _The Phantom Tollbooth _for the first time __when I was 17, heading off to college, and I thought it was pretty good stuff from an adult perspective. It's a little high-level for Mugen at this point, but he'll probably take it as a challenge and plow through it once the coin comes up tails._

_At any rate, let me know what you think, send me your requests (and thank Mattie for this one!), and as always, thanks for reading!_


	2. For eraserhead and Moody1656, Pt I

_For **eraserhead** and **Moody1656**, who requested "Mugan coming to terms with having feelings for Fuu (and meeting up with her) a couple of years after episode 26" and "something about Shino and Jin after her sentence ends," respectively. This** two-shot** will blend these two components of your multifaceted requests._

_In addition, since I'm already addressing you both directly: I plan to use two other components of your requests jointly as well - there will be a (separate) one-shot dealing with Mugen's piratical adventures after he left Ryuukyuu. And I've had a concept for Fuu that _didn't _involve teahouses for some time, so I'll get around to that one separately as well. :)_

* * *

**Obsessive Compulsive, Pt. I**

Mugen reclines on the Nagasaki docks, glaring at Ikitsuki Island out on the horizon. It's been three-ish years, not that he's counted or anything, and somehow he's managed to wander back here to reopen old wounds. So to speak.

Scratching his stubble lazily, he gazes out over the pristine water. That damn island stares back at him, its foliage glowing supernaturally green in the sunlight. With a sneer, Mugen hocks a little spit in Ikitsuki's general direction and hauls himself to his feet. But he stills, swaying, on his feet with nowhere to go. Frowning into the sun, he scuffs his geta on the dock. He combs his fingers through his hair and sighs, deflating. "Damn it all."

He _has_ to go back to Kamakura. If he doesn't, shit will go down, and it will not be pretty for him.

Three years. That was the timeline. After three years, that broad Jin was so twisted up about would be a free woman. And he hasto hand it to the fish-faced bastard - dude knows how to plan ahead. Three years is plenty of time for a guy like four-eyes to flush out and eliminate old "friends." Then, when all is said and done, Jin can just waltz up to the enkiri-dera and whisk his woman off to some temporary little shack on the edges of Kamakura until he figures out a better place to settle down.

And it's just over a month past the three year mark.

Not that he's counted.

At any rate, that means Mr. Tall, Four-Eyed and Honorable must have returned to Kamakura to make good on his promise. That means Fuu must be traveling there to meet him, and that means they'll _both_ be expecting Mugen to join them. And _that's_ where the trouble starts.

Mugen expels another sigh and narrows his eyes at his reflection in the water. He toes a pebble off the dock and plunks it directly in the center of his face. He watches his features stretch and distort with the ripples.

After all, the three of them had only parted on the understanding that fate would someday bring them together once again. And now, fate is in their hands: they have a timeframe, a destination, and no place else they need to be. It would be weird if Mugen _didn't_ show up. In fact, it'd probably be cause for alarm.

Mugen snorts at that, imagining the scene. The two worrywarts would sit patiently in their hypothetical Kamakura-outskirts shack for a month, maximum. After that, they'd start to get impatient, maybe a little concerned. Fuu would blah-blah-blah an endless string of nervous, angry chatter (_"He probably ran off with an entire brothel or something, that jerk!"_), and Jin would "hnn" in a "yes, that's quite possible" sort of way and excuse himself to go slice up some logs outside to calm his nerves. The broad – Mugen promptly nicknames her Mrs. Silence - would just look on at all this, quietly perturbed.

Then, at the two month mark, if Mugen _still _hadn't shown up, they'd probably become genuinely worried and righteously angry all at once, and then they'd do something stupid like look for him. Leave it to Fuu to start an epic journey to punch _him_ in the face this time.

Mugen's amusement fades. He scuffs his geta again, his hands in his pockets.

There's only two weeks and five days until the two month mark.

Mugen's face in the water is sad, pensive. Scowling, he plunks another rock into his reflection and spits in the water for good measure. "Bitch," he mutters to nobody.

It's not his fault. He didn't _plan_ to skip out, damn it. It's not like he wants to ditch them – he's over that. That's not what it is. He's just not ready. He's not prepared for all the _feelings_ he'll have to deal with.

With a growl, he thunks his ass down at the end of the dock and kicks the water up in a vicious splash.

Damn it, he's not supposed to have feelings.

The truth is, they've been slowly killing him, these past three-ish years. It pisses him off, but he's sort of forgotten how to fend for himself. Sure, he remembers how to make money (and steal it, too). He remembers how to sail and how to read the weather and how to do all the other myriad skills he's picked up in his twenty-one years of life. He remembers how to kick ass and take names. But he's sort of forgotten how to be alone, and the compulsion to seek them out fucking kills him.

Mugen kicks the water again, less viciously. In every _fucking_ town, he feels it. He _has_ to look for Fuu in every teahouse waitress, Jin in every half-wit carrying a sword. He can't _not _do it. It pisses him off, but he can deal with being pissed off. It embarrasses him a little, but he can mostly deal with being embarrassed. It's the _fear_ that gets him. Those fucking nightmares – maybe he could've dealt with all this if it weren't for the nightmares.

Groaning, he flops back on the dock and squints at the sky. God, the nightmares. He would never worry about Jin; the man's immortal as far as Mugen's concerned. So the nightmares fixate on Fuu instead.

It's all the goddamn island's fault. If it weren't for Ikitsuki, there would be no nightmares, because even though Fuu managed to get serially kidnapped on the entire journey, he'd always managed to get there in time. He'd always managed to keep her from getting hurt. Always.

Except for that one last time.

No, Mr. Silence can handle himself; it's Fuu he has to worry about. And he _has_ worried – after all those fucking rescues, he has a _right_ to worry. He can't imagine how she's managed to stay safe; rather, he tends to imagine that she hasn't, and _that's _when the compulsion starts to ruin him. In every town, he _has_ to look for her. Brothels, graveyards, dark alleys – he can't stop himself. In his dreams, he sees her dead-eyed and bleeding in a field of sunflowers, and he wakes up paranoid that this time, this time...

Scowling, Mugen drapes his arm over his eyes and ignores the fear that washes through him, because he's being stupid. He knows this. He knows that if he just goes back to Kamakura, all this ought to stop. He could see Jin and Fuu for himself. He wouldn't have to look for her – hey, there she fucking is. Hallelujah.

But that's where the real problem starts, because he's _used_ to the compulsion. It's been in him in some form or another since that stupid journey, since day fucking one. And after three years without her around, it's only grown more powerful – the need to see that flash in her eyes, that laughter in her smile. Protecting her is all he's ever lived for – he realized this when he was dying on that goddamned beach, when her voice called him back from the dead. She's so full of life to him, and he _has_ to keep that light from going out; always had to. If he goes back to Kamakura, the compulsion won't fade – it'll triple. He won't have to look, to search, to find – he'll need to protect; he'll need to _keep._ He'll smother her outright.

What the hell is a man like him supposed to do with that sentiment?

Heaving himself into a sitting position, Mugen kicks the water one last time before wearily getting on his feet. Ikitsuki Island stares at him from across the bay.

He _has_ to go back. They'll just come after him if he doesn't.

He flips the bird at the stupid island and marches back into town to get directions.

**TBC**

* * *

_And so ends Part I of this two-shot! I know I specifically asked for one-shot requests, but since I was blending two separate requests, I decided to go ahead and make this a two-shot. It only seemed fair (and it was getting long)._

_Thank you all so much for your wonderful requests! I _will _get to all of them at some point or another. I'm not going to promise a particular order because I've got like four going right now, and it's simply a matter of which one I manage to finish first. I _can _promise that_ Obsessive Compulsive, Pt. II_ will get published before anything else, though._

_On a side note, the title _Roads _and the summary quote do come from _The Phantom Tollbooth. _In the context of a collection of disconnected requests, I felt that the title and quote implied a myriad of equally possible universes/equally "true" stories (see the Fiction Identity Postulate for elaboration on this concept)._

_Let me know what you think and, as always, thanks for reading._

_P.S. I'm glad you enjoyed the one-shot, Mattie!_


	3. For eraserhead and Moody1656, Pt II

_This is the second part of a **two-shot **for **eraserhead** and **Moody1656**, who requested "Mugan coming to terms with having feelings for Fuu (and meeting up with her) a couple of years after episode 26" and "something about Shino and Jin after her sentence ends," respectively. I may elaborate on the Shino/Jin aspect in another one-shot; I didn't address it as fully as I would have liked in this story._

_And don't worry about the mispelling; it happens to all of us._

* * *

**Obsessive Compulsive, Pt. II**

Somehow, he runs into Jin first. He's literally _just_ arrived in Kamakura – _just_ crossed a bridge and walked into the first open shop he saw to ask about the layout of the town – and who should be there but Mr. Tall, Four-Eyed and Honorable himself, Mrs. Silence in tow. And the asshole doesn't even deign to notice Mugen's arrival! No, fish-face and his woman are too busy mulling over the stacks of fabric on display (Mugen finally registers that the shop is, in fact, a seamstress's, but that's beside the point). The point is that fish-face is too "busy" to even react to the appearance of his (the word is out before Mugen can un-think it) friend! Mugen sneers.

"Oi!" he barks.

Jin straightens up immediately at the greeting and swivels, glasses glinting. His expression is impassive as ever, but Mugen spots a flicker of warmth in the ronin's eyes. "You certainly took your time," he says.

Mugen lets out a loud _tch_. He curls his fingers around the grip of his sword habitually. "I'll get here when I _want_ to get here. Asshole."

Jin lets the insult pass, stepping aside to allow for introductions. "Shino, this is Mugen. Mugen, my wife, Shino."

It suddenly occurs to Mugen that he missed the wedding. This shouldn't bother him. It does.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Silence smiles tentatively and bows her head. "It's good to finally meet you, Mugen-san." His surprise must have registered on his face, because she corrects herself, "Mugen."

No words come to him. Just by looking at her, just by listening to her voice, he can tell that she's obviously some kind of saint, good-natured and dignified. What can a man like him say to a woman like that? He stares at her dumbly, feeling stupid. But Jin and Shino only watch him, and the patience in their eyes strikes a chord within him. This woman, who by all rights should know nothing about him, has been told whatever there is to know. And finally, words come.

He gives her a curt nod. "Yeah, whatever. When I heard Mr. Silence here had actually found himself a woman, I just had to see for myself."

Jin frowns at Mugen reflexively, but Shino's lips curve into a gentle smile. She gets it. Mugen immediately likes her. He joins them by the table of fabric, shoving his hands into his pockets and jerking his head in the direction of the display.

"What's all this, then?" Mugen asks.

"We are selecting a few new colors for kimono," Jin replies, gesturing to some threadbare spots in their clothes. "Do you have a preference?"

Mugen eyes him. "Why should I care? They're not for me, and you've got Mrs. Silence to help you."

Shino hides her smile at the nickname. Jin merely raises his eyebrows. "So I should tell Fuu that you refused to help?"

The heat that rises to his face pisses him off to no end. Scowling, Mugen cranes his neck to get a better look at the fabrics.

- -SAMURAI CHAMPLOO- -

They walk down the street side by side, Jin and Shino carrying the rolls of fabric because there is no way Mugen is holding any of that sissy shit in public. Bad enough he had to pick out two of the colors in the store. Fuck, the seamstress even called him 'adorable!' Not okay.

Lucky for him, Jin had apparently mellowed out in their three-ish years of separation. When Mugen refused to carry anything, four-eyes didn't even look down his nose once. He simply accepted the fabric, handed a roll to Shino, and motioned to the doorway, stating, "Follow me."

Mugen peers at his friend sideways as they walk. Jin's face is as inexpressive as ever, but the tension is gone. He's relaxed, content. There's a small crease between his eyebrows – a worn-in frown line, probably from that insane journey – but it's virtually invisible, he's so tranquil at the moment. As the three of them walk step-in-step, Mugen gets the sense that a weight has been lifted. Four-eyes is finally relieved, maybe from the lack of vengeful assassins remaining in his life, or maybe from the fact that the three of them – the four of them – will finally be together again, as they're supposed to be.

"So," Mugen drawls, leering at the ronin, "missed me that bad, didja?"

Jin smirks, his eyes still forward. "Certainly not," he answers without looking. "I am merely relieved that I will no longer have to listen to Fuu's theories about you."

Mugen snorts. "Did I run off with an entire brothel?"

Shino hides another smile, and Jin's stretches just a bit. "That _was_ one of them," he says.

Being able to so accurately predict her should be funny, but Mugen feels oddly let down. He _tch_s and glances to the side as they pass a teahouse. "Figures."

Jin cocks a brow and says nothing. They walk in silence, weaving through the passersby. Jin and Shino easily slip by with little more than an 'excuse me,' while Mugen simply stretches his arms above his head, the flash of blue prison tattoos and crack of knuckles clearing the path in front of him. He knits his fingers in back of his neck, the whispers that result washing over him unheard – or so it seems.

Jin and Shino watch this display out of the corners of their eyes. She flicks a sad look at her husband, and he stops abruptly. Mugen pulls up short just a step ahead of them, looking back in confusion.

"Mugen," Jin says. "What delayed you?"

Mugen glares at him, but the flare of anger subsides quickly. He lowers his eyes and scuffs his geta in the dirt. "Nothin'," he mutters. Jin raises his eyebrows, and Mugen snaps, "Maybe I just wasn't looking forward to seeing your stupid face." He scuffs again. "Asswipe."

They stand there in apprehensive silence: Jin studying his friend closely; Shino looking on, quietly perturbed; and Mugen growing steadily more restless with each passing second. Finally, unable to reach his glasses, Jin adjusts the fabric in his hands and starts walking again. "I see."

Mugen curls his lip back, baring his teeth. Fucking four-eyes. He always 'sees.' That's half the goddamn problem.

But the pirate falls into step beside his friend and Mrs. Silence anyway. Shino lays a gentle hand on his wrist, but it's gone before Mugen can react. He feels that blush rising again and scowls it away.

"Whatever," he spits. "Are we almost there?"

"Nearly," Jin says, taking the lead. "It's just around this corner."

Mugen trails behind them like an obedient dog as they round the building. He stops short, and it is Jin's and Shino's turn to look back in confusion. But Mugen can only stare at what is most definitely _not_ a Kamakura-outskirts shack. "You, ah... you're gonna stay here," he states, blinking at the house. The _large_ house. He wouldn't call it a mansion, but it's decidedly more permanent-looking than he had anticipated. There's clearly space enough for all four of them. For some reason this makes him anxious.

Jin's eyes crinkle a little at the corners. He adjusts his glasses. "That _was _our intention." He gives Mugen the barest of smiles as he unlatches the gate. "Come in."

Mugen stands in the road as Jin walks to the front door of the house and slides it open. He allows Shino to enter first, then disappears through the shadow of the doorway. After a moment's hesitation, Mugen clenches a fist, strides through the gate, and ducks inside.

They're waiting for him, of course. Satisfied, Jin adjusts his glasses and calls out unceremoniously, "We're home." Mugen becomes aware of noise elsewhere in the house by the sound of it ceasing.

"Well it's about time!"

Something tightens in Mugen's chest at the petulant, girlish voice echoing from another room. His fingers wrap around his sword grip reflexively, seeking reassurance. Every muscle in his body tenses, ready to fight anyone who might come between him and the owner of that voice. His nostrils flare. He forces himself to breathe.

"You _did _get the fabric, right?" she says, and Mugen shivers, actually _shivers_. Suddenly aware of himself, he casts wild eyes in the ronin's direction.

Jin, the bastard, is watching the pirate coolly as he replies, "Of course. Won't you come to the front room to see it?"

The sigh from the other room is deafening. There is a wet slap and the clatter of a dish being laid on a counter. "Shino, you were supposed to keep him focused," she says, a note of genuine affection buried in her voice's exasperated tones. Then a delicate, pink-nailed hand clasps the doorway, and Fuu steps into the room.

Looks up.

Stops.

Stares.

Her eyes are confused. Mugen remembers that his hand is still attached to his sword hilt and quickly yanks it away, shaking out his fingers. He takes a trembling breath.

"Hey," he says.

Shrieking, she throws herself at him, her arms looping around his waist. He hugs her back without thinking, and the urge to kiss her floods him. Alarmed, he makes to shove her away, but she squeezes him a little tighter, laughing uncontrollably. "Mugen!" she beams.

And God, her smile is just as warm as he remembered.

Clearing his throat, he releases her and steps back. He ruffles his hair, searching for words. "You look good," he says, when what he really means is _I'm so glad you're not dead._

Her cheeks pink a little. "You're not so bad yourself," she teases, and the _feelings_ that course through him in response are outright embarrassing. God, he's just so obsessed with her. He rubs his jaw, trying to make the heat subside. Meanwhile, Fuu clasps her hands in front of her face to hide her grin, bouncing on her toes. "I _knew_ you'd come back," she says.

The conviction in her voice throws him. Mugen furrows his brow, his hand still glued to one side of his face. "Didn't you tell four-eyes I'd run off with a brothel or some shit?"

Fuu flaps a hand at him dismissively. "Please. I was just venting. I knew you'd come back." She pauses, and when she looks at him again, her smile is shy. "You always did."

His heart slams against his ribcage. She gets it. All those fucking rescues and three years on top of them, she finally fucking gets it. The compulsion – the need, he corrects, because that's what it really is – surges through him, but for once he doesn't try to brush it off. If he wants to protect her now, if he wants to keep her close, it doesn't matter. The affection in her eyes tells him everything he needs to know. Mugen swivels his head in Jin's direction to kick him out, but the ronin has already left the room with Mrs. Silence in tow.

Fucking four-eyes, seeing everything.

Mugen turns back to Fuu, who is looking at him in confusion. "Yeah, well," he says, trying to hide the tremor in his voice, "maybe I won't anymore." He swallows, staring into her eyes. "Maybe I'll just stick around in the first place."

She blinks at him. Slowly, the confusion fades into a small smile, and she delicately weaves her tiny fingers into his own. "I'd like that," she says.

**END**

* * *

_All these feels - Mugen has so many._

_Bad Internet meme aside, I apologize if you were hoping for an actual declaration of love and/or kissing, but by now I suppose it's rather obvious that I prefer my romance understated and implied. If it's any consolation, Fuu understands the real significance of a wanderer like Mugen offering to "stick around."_

_And finally Jin makes an appearance in my writing again! Believe it or not, I do quite like Jin. I just often find that he interrupts the flow of most stories because let's face it, Mugen would never do any of this sissy 'confession' shit if Jin was in the room._

_In other news, I've begun mirroring my fanfiction to deviantART. My account is ~Daeranilen. If you're on dA, come say hi!_

_Let me know what you think and, as always, thanks for reading._


	4. For meruchan

_For **meru-chan**, who requested "a fic where something tragic happens to fuu and [Mugen]'s left to ponder, fully realize his feelings, and find a way to awkwardly confess to her," with the note that "AU or canon is fine." I hope you like the 1920s Jazz Age and a teeny bit of Prohibition-related Mafia action!_

_Obviously, this will use 1920s slang, but you can easily Google it yourself. A quick glossary of key terms: 'cheaters' are 'eyeglasses,' a 'bluenose' is a puritanical person, and a 'bearcat' is a fiery girl (typically a flapper)._

_I am so goddamn excited about this one guys you have no idea XD_

* * *

**Sitting Pretty**

The gin joint's door slams against the exterior wall from Mugen's kick, and he hustles outside, Fuu's limp form in his arms. Jin's eyes widen at the bloody stain blooming on her pink fringed dress. He swiftly goes for the nearby phone booth, grabs the receiver off its hook, and makes to dial. Dumping Fuu in the backseat of the flivver, Mugen seizes Jin's wrist, pries the receiver from his fingers, and slams it back onto the wall.

"The fuck is wrong with you?!" he demands, his palms red with her blood.

"She needs a doctor-"

"Like _we_ can take her to a doctor!" Mugen shouts. He slams the side of his fist against the wall of the phone booth. "Dammit, you were supposed to have the car ready! Where the fuck were you?!" The effort of holding up his own weight seems to overcome him then, and he slaps a bloody handprint on the glass as he slumps over for support. Jin watches, struggling to maintain composure, as Mugen attempts to rub his face with a dripping red hand and quickly rethinks the action.

"Mugen," Jin attempts, adjusting his glasses. "We don't have the supplies to handle an injury like this."

Mugen lurches forward and grabs a fistful of Jin's navy waistcoat. "Look, cheaters, maybe you forget because you used to be with the government, but _you're not with the government_! You're on the lam like the rest of us!" He shakes the former g-man to punctuate his point. "If you and I take her to a hospital, the cops'll pinch us both before you can 'hnn'!" The anger flees him, and the sense of his own powerlessness sets in. He releases Jin's bloodied waistcoat and casts a guilty glance in Fuu's direction. "Or they'll do it to her."

Jin allows a brief moment of silence for the gangster's remorse to fully seep in. "Mugen," Jin repeats, enunciating carefully. "Fuu is _bleeding out in our Model-T_. Do you want to stay out of jail, or do you want her to live?"

Mugen turns his face toward Jin's, and the helplessness there makes the g-man pity him a little. Jin picks up the receiver again, and Mugen makes no attempt to stop him.

**- -SAMURAI CHAMPLOO- -**

"It's too bad you aren't still with the Mafia."

Mugen blinks himself into awareness, slowly looking at Jin, who is seated beside him on the holding cell bench. "Eh?"

Jin is staring straight ahead, but his eyes have that cloudy, far-off look of when he's lost in thought. His hand comes up to cup his chin thoughtfully, and the manacles drag the other hand with it. "If you still had gang ties to exploit, we could've taken her to an illegitimate doctor and avoided this."

Mugen _tch_s and slumps forward onto his knees, handcuff chain clanking. "Wouldn't want those sawbones touchin' her anyway. Half of 'em ain't got a clue what they're doing." He rubs his stomach underneath his rumpled white dress shirt. "They'll tear you up worse'n the bullets do."

"Ah, so that's where the scars are from," Jin muses.

Mugen sits up to give the g-man a nasty look, but quickly sighs and clanks forward again, still rubbing that spot on his abdomen. "Some of 'em," he mumbles.

They sit in silence for a moment.

"Goddammit, I need some hooch," Mugen mutters.

**- -SAMURAI CHAMPLOO- -**

"You think she's okay?"

Jin pauses in counting the bricks by his face to clink in Mugen's direction. The gangster has sprawled out on the concrete floor, lanky limbs spread as far as his shackles will allow. Jin adjusts his glasses. "I presume that they would tell us if she wasn't."

Mugen snorts and rolls onto his side to look at the g-man. "You really are a fish, aren't you?"

Jin expels a sigh. "I have never been behind bars in my life, if that's what you're getting at."

"Whatever." Mugen rolls into a sitting position, seeming to fold up at the joints. "Just means you ain't really lived."

Jin's mouth curves into a sneer. He tips his head back, sliding his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Yes, because wasting half my life in prison sounds like living."

Mugen bares his teeth. "Bluenose."

"Rube," Jin shoots back before refocusing on the bricks beside him.

Still on the floor, the gangster wraps skinny arms around his skinny legs, knees pulled up into his chest. He stares out through the bars while Jin silently studies the wall.

Finally, Mugen says, "Bearcat like her'll be okay."

Jin glances in the gangster's direction. Mugen gazes out of the cell, a far-off look in his eyes. With just a hint of a smile, Jin turns back to his bricks. "That seems likely."

**- -SAMURAI CHAMPLOO- -**

"Oi. Bluenose."

Jin sits up with a start, waking from a very uncomfortable nap. Ignoring the kinks in his spine, he sighs and adjusts his glasses at the gangster, who has crawled across the floor to rest his arms and chin on Jin's bench. "Yes?" he asks.

Mugen's eyes are troubled. "Level with me a minute. You think Fuu's gonna live?"

Jin frowns. "I have no doubt that she will. She is a 'bearcat,' as you said."

"But what if she doesn't?" Mugen presses.

With another sigh, Jin considers the bricks again. "Then I suppose we'll be stuck with one another."

Mugen pauses as the sentence sinks in. Finally, he turns and glares out through the bars. "Dumb bird better live."

**- -SAMURAI CHAMPLOO- -**

"Cheaters?"

Jin does not respond from the corner he has wedged himself into to sleep in. Mugen frowns at him, then lowers his eyes, drawing a circle in the floor with his finger.

"It was my fault, you know. That she got shot." He digs his fingernail into a crack in the concrete. "I know I gave you shit about the car, but we knew you'd be late. You always get sidetracked by somethin'." His nail snaps off in the crack and starts to bleed. "I was the one who had to get her out of the joint if things went wrong."

Mugen pauses, peering at the g-man. Jin still shows no reaction, so the gangster continues:

"She was doing fine. I was the one who fucked up. She was listening in on this conversation in the back corner of the bar, hoofing it with some asshole, and he grabbed her. Like... _grabbed_ her." Mugen exhales. "And I just walked straight up and punched his lights out. And maybe even that woulda been fine if I hadn't still had the chopper in my free hand when I did it."

Jin remains motionless in the corner as Mugen finishes, "Next thing I know we're in the middle of a shootout, and by the time I've bumped those fuckers she's bleedin' all over the dance floor."

Mugen falls silent, staring at the drops of blood on the concrete from his finger. There is no answer from the corner.

"I won't tell her 'sorry'." He hunches forward, hugging his knees again. "But fuck it if I don't wish I would."

Jin cracks an eye open. Mugen is gazing out through the bars pensively. Shaking his head, the g-man settles back into his feigned slumber.

**- -SAMURAI CHAMPLOO- -**

"Mugen." Jin prods the sleeping gangster with his foot. "Mugen, wake up."

Snorting, Mugen lifts his face from the valley between his folded knees, blinking. "Time is it?"

"Mugen, the situation's changed."

Immediately the gangster is awake. "Fuu? Is she-"

Someone clears his throat on the opposite side of the bars. Mugen follows Jin's gaze to the middle-aged man in a sharp charcoal suit standing outside their cell. His face is blocky and masculine beneath the brim of his light tan fedora, and a square black goatee frames the grim line of his mouth. "Kariya Kagetoki, Federal Bureau of Investigation," he says, flashing a badge. "You two have made quite the names for yourselves with the United States government. Public Enemies Numbers 3 and 4, to be precise."

Mugen's lips curl back in a snarl, but Jin interjects before the gangster can say anything foolish: "And our companion?"

Kariya raises his eyebrows. "You mean the little moll that took two rounds to the chest? She's fine." Despite the tension in the air, both Mugen and Jin breathe a visible sigh of relief. Uncaring, Kariya finishes, "For now."

The tension redoubles. "What do you mean, 'for now'?!" Mugen snaps.

"We know her to be the daughter of a man we're searching for. One Seizo Kasumi." Kariya shrugs. "When she's stable, we'll take her in for questioning."

Both Mugen and Jin's expressions sharpen. "You mean interrogation," the latter says.

Kariya's eyes narrow. "That depends on her."

Mugen lurches to his feet, but Jin shoves a leg out to trip him. The gangster cracks his face on the concrete. "What the fuck?!" he bellows at the g-man, blood dripping from his nose.

"Don't be an idiot," Jin retorts.

Meanwhile, a slow smirk stretches Kariya's face. "Honestly," the agent smiles, drawing their attention. "He really is like a rabid dog."

Mugen bares his teeth. "So's your old man," he spits.

Kariya cocks a brow. "Witty like one, too. At any rate, I'm not actually here to make small talk. I just wanted to let you know that you're slated for execution by electric chair tomorrow at dawn." That smirk reappears, widens. "If you have an escape plan, I suggest you attempt it soon."

They both glare at his back as he walks away.

**- -SAMURAI CHAMPLOO- -**

"You asleep again?"

Jin is not, wedged in the corner as he is, but remaining silent is easy enough. Mugen takes that as a yes.

"You know, every day when I wake up, I think, 'This might be the last time I get to bask in the sun'," he says, gazing up at the darkened ceiling. "And it never, ever pissed me off before. But now..."

Mugen hesitates, then rolls onto his side, curling up, his chain clinking on the concrete. "Now I know I'll die without feeling the sun on my face one last time. And I can't stand it."

Jin cracks an eye open to peer at Mugen, slumped on the floor. Then, sighing, he sits up and looks at him fully. "By 'sun,' are you referring to Fuu?"

Mugen's face reddens, and he slaps his palms on the concrete to shove himself to the g-man's height. "You mean you've been awake this entire time?!"

"Yes," Jin answers flatly. "Answer my question."

"No!" Mugen snaps, incredulous. He fwumps onto his other side, rolling away from the Jin. "Fucking... fuck!"

"Mugen-"

"Dry up, asshole!" the gangster yells. He somehow manages to cross his arms despite being handcuffed and laid out on one side.

Jin waits for some of his anger to cool. After a few minutes of pouty silence, he poses more tentatively, "Mugen."

No sharp retort comes from the man on the floor opposite him, so the g-man continues:

"If we somehow get out of this situation-" Mugen snorts, but when no words follow, Jin presses on: "-when we are inevitably arrested and slated for execution again..." Jin pauses deliberately this time, but the gangster makes no sound. Jin concludes, "...would you like to have these same conversations with me before you go to the chair?"

Mugen declines to answer, which is all the response Jin needs.

**- -SAMURAI CHAMPLOO- -**

"Man, they really roughed you fellas up, huh?"

They both blink awake. Slowly, their vision focuses on Fuu, wiggling her fingers at them from the other side of the bars. Somehow she's managed to clean up that pink fringed dress. If neither of them knew better, they'd never have suspected that she'd been shot.

For once, Mugen manages to find words first. "You're not dead."

Rolling her eyes, Fuu crouches and wraps her fingers around the bars, leaning close. "Obviously not, you idiot." She reaches a dainty hand through the gap to touch his bloody chin. Jin hears the gangster's breath catch at the contact, but Fuu furrows her brow, too focused on his injuries to notice. "Did the cops do this to you?"

Somehow, Mugen regains himself. He jerks his head in Jin's direction, out of her reach. "Nah, bluenose kicked me."

Fuu's eyes narrow, and she glares at the g-man fiercely. "Jin! Honestly, I expected better of you!"

"He tried to throw himself at a federal agent," Jin retorts. "I had to stop him somehow."

Fuu sighs, one eyebrow twitching. "I swear, I can't leave you two alone for a minute." With a shake of her head, she pulls a set of lockpicks from the hollow of her cleavage and goes for the door to the cell.

It takes Mugen a moment to shake off the image of her hand sliding between her breasts. "The agent," he mutters forcing his focus elsewhere. "He said you were gonna get interrogated."

Fuu snorts as she fiddles with the tools. "Says him. All I had to do was bat my eyelashes at the youngest male nurse. The goof escorted me right out of the building. I just clocked him with a shoe and ran over here." The lock clicks, and with a satisfied noise, she pushes the gate open. "Let's go. We should be able to break the manacles with this hammer I've got stashed outside."

"Wait," Mugen says, even though Jin is already on his feet and out the door. The two of them look back at the gangster, silently questioning, and the undivided attention makes him swallow anxiously. "Are you gonna be all right?" he asks, locking his eyes on Fuu.

Her expression softens. "Let's get out of here," she says. "We'll talk when we're safe."

**- -SAMURAI CHAMPLOO- -**

Somehow they make it to their other safehouse on the edge of the city without being noticed, despite Jin's bloodied blue waistcoat and Mugen's bright red blazer looking a little redder in certain areas. As per their unspoken standard procedure, Jin enters the forsaken apartment building first to check for squatters or spies. Mugen pushes Fuu in second and shuts and locks the door behind the three of them, keeping her between her 'bodyguards' as they sweep the place.

After their search turns up nothing more than a few rats, they slump on one of the beat-up apartment sofas, too exhausted to care where it's been. Fuu exhales and leans her head on Jin's shoulder, and Mugen is about to say something regrettable when she kicks her feet up into his lap, silencing his complaint.

"I ain't a footstool," he mutters instead.

With a snort, she kicks her shoes over the arm of the couch and snuggles into them both in an oddly reassuring way. Resigning himself to his fate, Mugen rests his chin on his fist and gazes at the peeling wallpaper of the abandoned apartment, his eyes cloudy and faraway. Jin looks at the girl pressed up against his side and the man on the opposite end of the couch in a brotherly sort of way. Then he stands up.

"We've never stocked this safehouse with food," he says in response to their confused looks. "I'll go procure some."

Fuu furrows her brow. "You sure you won't get lost this time?"

"Again?" Mugen drones, eyeing the g-man warily.

"I'm certain," Jin answers, already moving toward the door. He pauses at the edge of the room and glances back. "Mugen. Remember what we talked about."

And then he disappears through the doorway. Fuu and Mugen stare in his wake. They sit in silence until they hear the front door shut and latch.

"What'd you talk about?" Fuu asks, turning curious brown eyes on the gangster.

Face reddening, Mugen sneers at the doorway and stretches his arms along the back of the couch. "Nothin'," he says, looking away.

Fuu arches an eyebrow. "That sounded like a whole lot of nothing."

"I said it was nothing!" Mugen snaps, glaring at her. He shifts on the couch in a half-hearted bid to put some distance between them, which fails entirely seeing as her feet stay in his lap. "Dumb bird," he mutters.

She frowns at him for a moment, pondering his agitated expression. Then, finally, she asks, "Hey. You wanted to know if I'd be okay, right?"

Sitting up more fully, Mugen peers at her. "Yeah," he says. "So?"

"So I haven't answered your question," she retorts, swinging her feet off his lap and standing. She sways for a moment, then, with a deep breath, moves to take off her dress.

His face turns as red as his blazer. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Mugen sputters, scrambling back on the couch as far away from her as he can manage.

She shoots him a narrow look, her cheeks a little pink as well. "I'm _showing_ you the bandages! God, Mugen, grow up!" She turns toward him, her arms folded across her chest. "You were worried about me, right? That's what this is about? You were worried and now you're too embarrassed to say so because Jin made a point of it?"

Mugen breathes heavily, his eyes wide and locked on her stubborn face.

"Well, fine." And in one quick motion, she peels off the dress and drops it on the floor. Her entire torso is wrapped in milky white bandages tight enough to show the curves of her body - and there are curves, however subtle they may be on her slender frame. She's wearing little black panties, and he snaps his eyes back up because he can't think about those for very long if he wants to avoid a shoe to the face.

Fuu stands there, hands on her hips, her stubborn face pink in the cheeks, waiting for him to do... something. Breathing in deeply, Mugen stands and approaches her, trying his damnedest not to look past the bottom strip of bandage. Delicately, he touches the spot where he knows she'd been shot, right beneath her breastbone. She winces, and he glances up at her face so close to his.

He's miscalculated. He'd thought he could do this and still keep her at a distance if he just didn't look down. But up is worse. Her face is right there, inches away, and he's never done self-control very well. He flattens his palm against her side, curls a hand around the back of her neck, and kisses her.

**END**

* * *

_I'm really, really glad that this request was nonspecific enough that I could finally write a 1920s Prohibition-era AU for these guys, because I've been wanting to do it since I was fifteen (side note: I'm twenty)._

_The story: Fuu is a flapper whose father was a high-ranking bookie for the local branch of the Mob. When he grew a conscience and ran off with the books, Fuu decided to set out to find him - and so did everyone else he'd pissed off, gangsters and government agents alike. For protection, Fuu recruited Mugen, an ex-mobster on the run after killing a few fellow soldiers who'd set him up, and Jin, a former Prohibition Agent who defected after witnessing the corruption in his ranks._

_Since Fuu's body type would be in fashion for the period, she gets to have a more active role, going into the speakeasies to dance, flirt, and eavesdrop. But she's still a wimp, so Mugen and Jin are there to get her out if things go sour. Unfortunately, Jin, who drives the car, usually gets attacked by anyone who recognizes him, and Mugen, who handles most of the shooting, tends to jump the gun._

_So, just like in the show, everyone hates our heroes, and Mugen and Jin are in a position to naturally distrust one another. Just like in the show, Fuu usually gets put in danger, Mugen is usually the one on hand to save her, and Jin usually kicks unrelated ass on the side. You can see why I never wrote it, right? I'd more or less be rehashing the plot of the show, so it would ultimately be the same thing and therefore pointless to read._

_I don't do renaming in AUs, so their incredibly inappropriate Japanese names get to stay._

_Let me know what you think (and if any of you would like your requests in this setting!) and, as always, thanks for reading._


End file.
